Calling
by G.A. AnimeFan4
Summary: Both of their names are being called - - one isn't answering, the other does immediately. {HitsuKarin, spoilers}
1. Counting The Minutes Like Dewdrops

_A/N: __Spoilers for chapters 591, 592, and probably a few future ones as they update._

_Here, have a fanfic. Also, I **might** update this more as Bleach (which I do not own) releases more pages and this whole problem with Hitsugaya is resolved. . .or not resolved. We'll see, but for now, I'm going to mark this as _In Progress_._

* * *

**Counting The Minutes Like Dewdrops**

* * *

.

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"You know, I may not come back."

She frowns and lowers her gaze toward the ground, memorizing each glistening, fresh dewdrop decorating the grass. She folds her hands in her lap and shifts her weight ever so slightly from where she sits on the bars that line their favorite place - the place where the sun sets in beautiful hues of red, orange, gold, and violet, where trees outline the view from the hill they perch at the top of. She exhales quietly and finds herself resting her head on his shoulder; he is tense, and although that's nothing new, it concerns her.

"I know," Karin tells him seriously. "But I also know you'll come home safely."

She can practically _feel_ him scowling through the muscles in his neck and she smiles bitterly, fully aware that she is clinging onto a very frail string of hope.

In all honesty, Karin deems herself lucky that he even bothered to see her. She knows everything, he told her details Ichi-nii had refused to, she knows about Quincy and how very few individuals possess their _Bankai_ anymore. She can sense the obvious decrease in power within this _Shinigami _she stays beside, sense his determination and unease all the same, sense the fate he has resigned himself to, just in case he really does die when the enemy returns - and they _will_ return, that much is obvious.

"I'll come home," he repeats her words in an empty tone, at a loss of his usual irritation, sourness, disinterest. "I promise."

Karin feels her cheeks dimple because her eyes are becoming damp and there is no way in hell she is going to cry over a stupid conversation such as this and she straightens herself up, smacking his arm playfully. He quirks a brow and manages a weak simper. "I wish I could be there to help," she states, swinging her feet back and forth as a distraction. She tucks a loose strand of black hair behind her ear, not caring enough to redo the falling ponytail. "Kick some ass for me, you hear?"

Finally, Toushirou breaks out in a grin - he doesn't do that often, but she has had the privilege of seeing a certain relaxed twinkle in his teal irises, a surreal sort of peacefulness in his features. It's times like these that Karin remembers just how old he really is, yet in a way, he's still a kid like her. His frame is still small - a bit taller than she is, though - and his mind has matured over the decades like that of an old man, and she used to tease him a lot about that until this war started.

To break a thick silence, Karin reaches over and ruffles his white hair, savoring the soft sensation, and laughs. "I'll be waiting for your next visit, Toushirou."

He nods curtly and intertwines her fingers with his, squeezing gently before releasing his grip. ". . .Urahara-san caught me while I was heading here."

"Urahara-san?"

"Yeah. I swear that guy knows everything," he mutters, reaching into the fabric of his robes and _haori_. "He gave me something. This way, we'll stay connected." He looks at her and adds, "It's your choice. Personally, I'm against it." He deliberately leaves out the part _You might stress over nothing if we go through with this_, but Karin gets the idea.

"You can. . .really do that?"

"According to that pervert, yes we can," Toushirou responds slowly, carefully, crushing the tiny object he'd stored in his clothes in his palm. He murmurs something under his breath, a _Hadou _spell probably, and he pauses, establishing that the slope below them is quite interesting suddenly. While he delays like that a second, Karin considers her options.

If she lets him go without any sort of tie to him, she'd most likely be able to convince herself that he is alright and carry on for the time being. It'd be hard, but doable, a simple bliss in the self-conviction that he is alive. But if she accepts this 'magic' and he gets hurt, even an insignificant cut or bruise, there is a large chance that she'd panic temporarily. And if he - dare she think it? - _dies_ out there, she would recognize it immediately and crumple in the middle of class sobbing for "no reason".

Her decision scrambles to her fast.

"Let's do it."

Toushirou, almost crestfallen in the way his spine arches and his wrists twitch barely visibly, dips his chin in reluctant agreement. A weak glow emits from his nails and he pulls away the black cloth from his chest and presses one hand just below his collarbone where his attire outta cover the marks of his fingertips. Following his lead, Karin exposes her shoulder and he hesitates, then touches the pale skin, brandishing five prints there, too.

They don't make a sound for a long time, and when someone finally utters a noise, it's Toushirou. "Don't do anything dumb while I'm gone, because now I'll know about it."

Karin smirks and pushes him playfully. "No guarantees."

After that, neither of them really make an effort to spark a conversation. She places her head in the cook of his neck again, both sighing as cool air gathers and makes their breath fog. The dewdrops shine a little brighter as the sun begins to set, as it does every evening and each night the two of them come here together. Like when they first met. And the second time. - - Rays stretch across the vastness of the darkening atmosphere, painting it like a canvas full of ink splatters and vibrant dyes. Pastels and oils and stains. It's beautiful, but Karin has a reputation to keep (as in _not_ acting like an actual girl) so she bites her tongue and slides her lids shut. Karin catches herself wishing they could stay like this forever.

When the world is inky and dim, they shuffle to their feet and he walks her home - not that a ghost could do much to protect her, but she decides not to point that out - and even during that, they don't chat much.

And after a while, they reach her residence, and both blankly read _Kurosaki Clinic_ while coming nearer.

Karin halts just outside and turns to face him, inhaling sharply and forcing a happy smile onto her face. "Thank you." On further consideration, she continues with, ". . .for everything."

Toushirou glares at her as if to inquire _For what?_ yet she dismisses this and wraps her arms around him, holding him close for what might be the final- _no_, just for a month or so. He awkwardly returns the gesture - he's terrible at hugs, she thinks it's funny. After which she inclines her jaw to reach his mouth as he kisses her, telling one another all they need to through physical contact. Karin pecks him on the cheek and he smiles for the last time for what will be a long time to come, brushing his lips against her forehead before both depart, not giving into the urge to look back. The flash of the _Senkaimon _casts her shadow ahead of her on the tar and Karin clenches her fist as not to spin on her heel and run to him.

No, rather, she opens the door to her house and steps inside, refusing to peek into the past, and greets Yuzu for dinner.

.

.

.

.

It's when Karin is concluding that Urahara-san gave the boy a dud that she feels it.

It's weird and diverting her attention from her homework assignments. They're little twinges of aching familiarity in her ribs and tingles of apprehension in her stomach and pricks of disturbing vexation in every gulp of air she takes. At first she disregards it, determining it is because she awoke at such an ungodly hour. However, soon the waves of anxiety grow stronger, and Karin finds that she is shivering. Hollowly, she rubs the spot on her shoulder, and begins to dread.

There is an overwhelming awareness of terror and horrified fear, then a flood of resolve and boldness, thereupon a comforting yet not-so-comforting residing tide of tiredness, and Karin sits there, completely on edge and dazed.

For a minute, she wonders if Toushirou is dead.

.

.

She is watching outside the classroom window without really seeing anything, cheek resting in her hand, elbow on her desk. The teacher drones away, reciting texts out of books that no one will ever use in life. A paper airplane floats by and Karin doesn't notice.

And then the world kinda stops.

Karin lowers her hand stiffly, eyes widening gradually the point that it strains her vision. The voices in the school become muffled and far off and her bones are really cold all of a sudden, she can't even gasp, her lungs hurt. She grits her teeth and can't even grind them properly, lower lip beginning to tremble, and somewhere, _Sensei _is repeating her name, over and over and over - -

For a split moment, she feels him resisting, then a dull unconsciousness dragging their connection downward.

She still isn't reacting to her name when Toushirou begins to draw blood from his friends.

.

.

.

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_- - Giselle is calling his name. . ._


	2. For The Sake Of Seireitei

_A/N: I have made a terrible mistake for I have no idea where I am going with this. I want it to stay along the lines of canon as Bleach chapters are published, meaning I have to wait like a week or two before updating. . . I'm trying._

_Spoilers for Chapters 591 - 594._

_Thanks for everyone's reviews, I'm sorry I'm so disappointing. You all mean so much to me!_

* * *

**For The Sake Of Seireitei**

* * *

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- - Giselle touches his face as she bleeds on him and he, exhausted, gulps and feels himself being tugged under, his _reiatsu _crumbling, the clinging remnants of his life dispersing into the metallic liquid splattering across his skin.

The last thing he remembers is the aching throb of the fingerprints on his chest, a flicker of worry in scarcely recalling Matsumoto's situation, and an isolated memory (or is it a reality . . . ?) of someone kissing the tip of his nose.

And just like that, he can't quite recollect _her_ face, _her_ name, or why he is obediently dressing himself in white.

The one piece he _can_ hear in the murky depths of imprisonment is:

_"After all . . . it's all **for the sake of Seireitei **. . ." _- -

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.

.

_Karin grins at him and plants her lips on the tip of his cold nose and Toushirou scowls, sighing and letting her do as she pleases._

_He follows her around, holds secret discussions with her during classes. In third period, there is an empty seat after the kid moved to Europe with her family, so the _Shinigami _likes to occupy that spot and call it his own._

_When he can escape Soul Society, grab a position down in the human world and leave Rangiku-san in charge for a little while, he fancies neglecting his job ever so slightly to spend time with the dark-haired girl with grey eyes and a sharp tone. She scribbles messages on the top margin of her notebook to communicate with him, even risks whispering sometimes when the students around them aren't paying attention. After all, the boyish teenage girl chatting idly with a "ghost"? It sounds ridiculous and Karin doesn't quite enjoy the idea of living in an asylum, so she tries to be discrete._

_Toushirou speaks pretty loud since no one but her can hear him, entertaining her because school is boring as hell. His monotone, dull speeches tend to catch her off guard because suddenly something will be hilarious and she can't react considering the teacher would give her detention._

_There is a time, however, when they hold a fairly sincere and thoughtful conversation._

_"I have a question," Karin mutters out of the corner of her mouth while pretending to read a book. "You're _dead_, right?"_

_Toushirou frowns at her, unamused, and replies, "_Y_es."_

_"Then why do people like you still fear dying?" she ventures, facial expression neutral but stealing a peek at his legs propped on the desk in boredom, arms folded, chin angled downward. She wishes to know on account of the spirits she sees around town often fretting over this inevitable event._

_The boy ponders that a second and chooses his response carefully, explaining plainly. "Well, this is the afterlife for me. You could say it's the in-between. If I were to die again, though, then I'd be nothing. I'll stay like this for many centuries to come so long as I'm not killed again." He turns to look at her. "I suppose others fear a second death because they will no longer exist when that happens."_

_"That's . . . depressing."_

_"Very."_

_Karin knits her brow. ". . . Are you scared? Of dying again?"_

_Toushirou smirks sourly. "Who isn't?"_

_She ducks behind the book when _Sensei _peers up and grinds her teeth, scolding herself for falling in love with someone who had already died once, when she still had two more times to go._

.

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It only becomes more and more unnerving as time stretches on.

She goes home that day, walking oh so slowly to keep her balance, to keep her legs going straight forward. She does this because she is scared.

Scared that she'll lose control of her own body.

Karin couldn't describe it even if she wanted to, so she shuts her mouth for the rest of the day, staring at her shoes in vigilant, unfocused determination to make it to her house without falling over. The sky is drab with overcast and she distractedly pulls her coat closer around her figure, knocking her book bag with her hand in the process. She blinks slowly down at the scattered papers littering the sidewalk now, dragging in a dry breath of air, lungs heaving in effort, and gradually kneels down onto the cement and begins to pick up her homework documents, one by one with delayed motions.

And she doesn't exactly know how, but Karin recoups her belongings and makes it to the Clinic, manages a soft _No thank you_ to Yuzu when she offers snacks, and gets up the stairs to her bedroom, collapsing on her mattress unsteadily, drawing her knees to her chin and hugging herself in failed comfort, gazing at the closed door as if waiting for him to come home like he promised, to step in and shrug nonchalantly, to . . . to . . .

. . . to _stop hurting people._

So her afternoon is an entanglement of anguished, angry shrieks of two men being slaughtered, of an oily, drawling voice threatening a walking corpse, and strange, unnatural twists of muscles and bends of joints even though she isn't moving. The words are far away, incoherent, like they're buzzing memories from a dream she had many years ago, like déjà vu. The only thing she understands for an entire hour straight is him straining to roar "_Daiguren Hyourinmaru!_" and it's painful to hear because her own throat rasps along with his and the _dead aren't supposed to tell._

By the time Karin finally grasps another reoccurring sentence properly, it's too late, and he's hitting the ground.

* * *

_"After all . . . it's all **for the sake of Seireitei** . . ."_

* * *

Karin sort of zones out, blanks, buries her face in her arms and rests her head on her curled up thighs, counting each exhale, each inhale. It's stopping her from panicking, stopping her from giving up.

A part of her wants to rid herself of the marks, of their connection on her shoulder, erase them, destroy them, be done with this stupidity and cross her fingers and convince herself that none of this ever happened and that Toushirou will be okay. And then the rest of Karin wants to punish herself, restrains herself from rubbing the flesh off of the five prints, endures. It's an endless war inside of herself.

It's all so distant, so remote, so muted and faint and _unreal._

She is so goddamned fixated on monitoring her limbs and mind and emotions that the person sitting beside her causes her to inaudibly cry out in surprise. This sensation is screwing with Karin's intellect and she looks dazedly at her father as he leans next to her and wraps an arm around her, pulling her close and massaging her back with repetitive circles. Isshin smiles sadly, like he _knows_,_ knows everything_, and patiently embraces his daughter, a certain sorrow deep in his own eyes.

He tells her that he's thinking of going out, asks her if she'd like him to pick up anything. He hasn't decided yet, if he'll go anywhere, but he's sincerely contemplating stepping out for a while.

Karin says no. It's croaky and dying and weary, but it is comprehensible and that's good enough.

Isshin mentions how Yuzu will be making supper in a couple of hours, wants to know if Karin has a craving for anything special. This time, she can only shake her head.

"You seem to have made a mistake," Isshin murmurs gently, and it's so out of character to hear him talk seriously. "We all do, you know."

Karin wonders if he means the seal on her shoulder and shudders.

Her dad cranes his neck to kiss her cheek and she can't retort properly so she allows him to, watching as he adds evenly, "He'll be alright. Don't worry."

Just outside the door, Yuzu slides to the wooden floor, back against the wall, stifling a worried whimper.

Karin lets herself cry.

.

.

_Daiguren Hyournmaru_.

It continues to replay like a broken record; the syllables are strangled, full of _distress_, like it hurts to say them, yet so thickly coated in malice that it makes Karin want to tear up again and again and again.

_After all . . . it's all **for the sake of Seireitei** . . ._

.

.

Karin's spine arches strangely when something stabs into her neck, something that feels suspiciously like a needle, and Isshin's arm grips her tighter as a low whine slips off her tongue.

It is when she starts to _scream_ that her father shatters, clenches his jaw with a flash of horrified responsibility that only a parent can possess, and unzips her coat, pulling the fabric away from her shoulder as if he knew where the connection laid all along, wiping his palm down her pale, clammy skin.

Karin recovers, voice having cracked and now very full of gravel, shifting to see that her sister has joined them, embracing her protectively as well.

Isshin gives her one last squeeze and gets to his feet tensely, closing the door behind him with a tiny _creak_, leaving Yuzu to comfort her.

Dreadfully and desolately, she twists her sore, sore neck to stare at her exposed shoulder. Toushirou's markings are erased; only faded freckles remain. She can't sense him anymore, as if it never even happened at all, and she sinks into her sibling's warm constraint, no longer quivering - only feeling oddly detached and insecure.

Downstairs, they can hear Isshin beginning to make an early dinner. Karin vaguely wonders if he's still pondering whether or not to run that errand of his.

Yuzu whispers her name (a desperate plea to know if she is okay) and she can't bring herself to answer; simply presses closer, letting down her many, many barriers.

.

.

- - _Toushirou is still screaming._

_- - He is so, so, so very alone. . . _


End file.
